“Because he should quit. He told me not to nag him about it, but I’m going to anyway. He needs to quit. He has a horrible cough, Mom. You should hear it. Maybe if you talked to him too, he’d do something. With the two of us on his case, I’m sure we could get him to stop.”
“I don’t know, Dani. At this point I don’t think it’s going to make a difference.”
I can’t believe my mother is saying that. “What are you talking about? Of course, it’ll make a difference. If Sam quits smoking, his lungs will get clean again, and he’ll lose that cough.”
“I just mean that smoking is so much a part of him that nagging isn’t going to make him quit. It’ll only put a wall up between you. Is that what you want? In another month you’ll be back home. Do you really want to waste the short time you have fighting?”
“It’s not like I’ll never see him again,” I say.
There’s a pause. Then Mom sighs. “I know you mean well, Dani. I’m just saying Sam might not take your suggestion the way you intend it, and I’d hate for this visit to end on a sour note.”
Chapter Fourteen
When the end of July arrives, it suddenly hits me that in two more weeks I’ll be going home. It’s not like I didn’t know it was going to happen, but I didn’t realize it was going to sneak up on me so fast, and that I was going to hate to leave. Bring on the panic attack.
For half a second I consider asking Sam if I can stay and do my grade twelve year in Webb’s River. But I know that won’t solve anything. I’d see Sam every day, but Micah would be at university in Calgary. And anyway, even if Sam was okay with the idea, I very much doubt that Mom would go for it.
Then I have another thought. If I can’t stay in Webb’s River, maybe I can get Micah and Sam to come to Vancouver. It would be easy enough for Micah to transfer universities. But what about Sam? I sigh. The chances of him moving to Vancouver are zero to none. He’d be as out of his element there as Mom would be in Webb’s River.
He could come for a visit though. In fact, he should come for a visit. He hasn’t seen Mom in eighteen years. A family reunion is way overdue.
I feel myself begin to perk up. This idea has potential.
Accommodation isn’t a problem. There’s tons of room at Reed’s house, and if Sam wants more privacy than that, he can stay at Mom’s condo. As for Jasmine, I’m sure the Toobys would keep her at Greener Pastures until Sam gets back.
Now I’m excited. This is a great idea. Who do I run it by first, Mom or Sam?
Sam, of course. I know Mom will jump at the chance to see her brother again, so there’s no need to get her approval. Besides, it would be a super surprise for her if Sam just showed up. I picture the two of them hugging and laughing and crying, and I can’t help grinning.
Now there’s no doubt in my mind — I absolutely have to make this happen. Sam might resist a little — just on general principle. Once a rebel, always a rebel, I guess. But I still think I can talk him into it. I’ll just play the family ties card and point out how much time he and Mom have already lost. How can he argue with that?
All I have to do is catch him when he’s in a good mood and his guard is down. Maybe after the rodeo.
———
I wince as Micah’s body flies through the air and hits the ground with a thud and a cloud of dust. As he rolls away from the hooves of the bucking horse, another cowboy moves in to release the bronco’s flank strap.
“Good ride that time,” he calls to Micah, who is now back on his feet, slapping at his dusty jeans. “You stayed on eight seconds easy. But you gotta remember to use your spurs more. It’ll earn you points with the judges.” Micah starts back to the chute, but the cowboy shakes his head. “That’s enough for today. Take a break. We’ll hit it hard tomorrow, and then it’s the rodeo.”
Micah nods and heads toward the fence post where I’m sitting. He isn’t exactly limping, but there’s certainly no spring in his step.
“You’re tired,” I offer sympathetically.
“And sore,” he groans as he stretches and twists and rolls his shoulders. “Let me get a shower and then we can grab a pop or something.”
I look at my watch. “Okay, but I have to get the truck back to Sam by four.”
“What time is it now?”
“A little after three.”
Micah nods. “I’ll meet you on the porch swing in fifteen minutes.” He squeezes my knee and smiles wearily before trudging away.
I feel bad for him even though I know I shouldn’t. He might be tired and beat up, but he’s also happier than a pig in mud. Part of me thinks he’s insane to be punishing his body like he is, but there’s another part of me that understands perfectly. It’s a no-brainer, really. If you’re going to take on a challenge, you have to keep at it until you succeed. Otherwise what’s the point?
I jump down from my perch on the fence and head toward the house. The rodeo is just two days away. I cross my fingers that all Micah’s training will pay off. I’m pretty sure he’ll do great. Of course, I haven’t seen any other bronco riders, so I have nothing to compare him with, but I don’t think he’d be competing if he wasn’t good.
Besides, Sam says Micah has what it takes, and he would know, being a professional rodeo cowboy himself. I wish I could see him riding a bronco. But, of course, that’s never going to happen.
I climb the porch steps, flop down on the swing, and sigh. There are a lot of those never-going-to-happen deals with Sam. The thing is I don’t even know what half of them are — and I probably never will. The man is as deceptive as an iceberg. Most of him is hidden below the surface. There’s so much about him I want to know, but he shares almost nothing. If only I could find a way to make him open up. I ponder the situation until Micah arrives.
As he ambles toward me, I can’t help smiling. He reminds me of a little boy all scrubbed up for church. His wet hair is combed in place, and his cheeks are splotches of pink. He smells like soap. He drops down beside me and hands me a can of pop. Then he cracks open his own and downs the whole thing.
I laugh. “Thirsty much?”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles. “Trail dust.”
I offer him my unopened drink.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I brought it for you.”
I shove it into his hand. “Don’t be dumb. You’re obviously still thirsty. Besides, you’ve just had a major physical workout. You need to stay hydrated. Don’t you know that?”
He takes the pop and grins at me. “Yes, Coach. Whatever you say.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. So if I told you to lay off training tomorrow and just rest up for the rodeo, you’d do it?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Absolutely.”
“You’re such a liar,” I say and swat him in the stomach.
“And you’re a lousy coach.” He winces as he fends me off.
“Then I guess it won’t matter that I won’t be here to watch you practice picking yourself up off the ground tomorrow.”
“You’re not coming over?”
I shake my head. “Can’t. Sam and I are going to Kamloops.”
“What for?”
I shrug. “To tell you the truth, I don’t actually know. Apparently it’s a surprise.”
———
It’s ten after four when Lizzie and I pull up to the trailer, but if the stormy expression on Sam’s face is any indication, it might as well be midnight. He’s pacing back and forth and puffing on his cigarette like he’s in a smoking race.
I’m not even out of the truck before he grabs the keys out of my hand. “I told you four o’clock,” he growls as he pushes past me.
“I’m ten minutes late!” I protest. “There was a lot of traffic on the highway. I couldn’t get across.”
He doesn’t reply. That’s worse than yelling at me.
I don’t dare ask where he’s going. Instead, I say, “Will you be back for supper?”
He doesn’t answer that either.
He just throws one last scowl my way and then speeds off, chewing up the grass and spewing dust.
I watch until he disappears from sight. To my surprise, I find myself blinking back tears. Sam can be elusive and secretive, but he’s never angry — not ever!
I don’t get it. Why is he so upset? And where is he going that ten minutes is the end of the world? It’s not like he has a plane to catch. And even if he did, it would wait for him. If the pilot knew someone was coming, he’d wait. That’s what people in Webb’s River do. For them, time is just approximate. If there were no clocks, no one would even notice.
So that can mean only one thing — Sam has business elsewhere.
I kick a rock and watch it skip across the field then roll to a stop. I catch up with it and kick it again. And then again and again. Eventually, it takes me to the shed.
Jasmine is tethered to a post nearby. She whinnies. I walk over and stroke her nose.
“So what’s up with Sam, Jasmine?” I ask her. “I know you know. If I take you for a ride, will you tell me? I won’t breathe a word to anyone, I promise.”
Chapter Fifteen
I take Jasmine for a good long ride, hoping Sam will be back when I return. He isn’t. He doesn’t show up by suppertime either, and he doesn’t call. I figure he’s probably still mad, and this is his way of punishing me. Of course, that puts my back up. If he thinks I’m going to spend my time wondering where he is and when he’s coming back, he has another think coming.
It’s nearly seven o’clock. I should eat. I open the fridge and stare inside. What do I want? I push a few jars around and poke through the crisper. Nothing appeals to me. I’m just not hungry. Locking horns with Sam has killed my appetite.
I shut the fridge and wander into the living room. Grabbing my book from the coffee table, I flop onto the couch and start to read — sort of. My eyes skim over the words, but that’s as far as I get, and nine pages later I have absolutely no recollection of what I’ve read. I go back to the beginning of the chapter and try again, but the book might as well be in Chinese.
I switch on the television and flip through the channels. There’s a baseball game on, but that just reminds me of Sam, so I surf right on by. Eventually, I settle on a cooking show, but when it’s over I have no idea what the chef made. Something grilled, I think, but I can’t even swear to that. Next I watch a sitcom, but I don’t so much as crack a smile. After that it’s one of those crime scene investigation shows, though I don’t know which one — and I don’t care. Even the news broadcast that follows can’t penetrate the fog around my brain.
Finally, I switch off the television and head for bed. But I don’t sleep. Tonight — for the first time since I’ve come to Webb’s River — my body finds every lump and bump in the futon. I feel like the princess and the pea, and I toss and turn non-stop.
Every few minutes I check the time — 10:55, 11:25, 11:40. The later it gets, the more I worry. I don’t want to, but I can’t seem to stop. I try to push thoughts of Sam out of my head, but they won’t leave, and the more I think about our run-in, the more serious it becomes. I know I’m blowing the situation out of proportion, but I can’t help myself. I even start to consider calling Mom or the police.
Just after midnight, I hear Lizzie pull in, and the beam from her headlights darts across the hall wall. I jump out of bed and shut my bedroom door. I don’t want Sam looking in. I’m no good at faking sleep, and I don’t want him to know I’ve been lying awake.
The inside of the trailer is dark, but I’ve put the outside light on, so at least Sam doesn’t have to feel his way across the yard like a blind man. I hear his boots on the steps, and then the door opens and closes quietly. My heart thaws a little. Even though Sam’s mad at me, he’s still being considerate. Under my door a sliver of yellow appears. Sam must have switched on the bathroom light. I hear water running. Then it stops and the light under my door vanishes. A soft click a couple of seconds later tells me Sam has gone into his bedroom.
He is home, safe and sound. I should relax, but I’m as tense as ever. The only difference is that now I have to force myself to stay still. If I move around, the squeaky futon will give me away for sure. I wait to hear the familiar rhythm of Sam’s snoring begin, but even after half an hour, there’s nothing. He’s not sleeping either.
———
I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning — not because I’m tired, which I am — but because I’m afraid to face Sam. What if he’s still mad? I can smell the coffee, and I can hear him rattling around in the kitchen like he does every morning, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still angry.
I take my time washing and dressing. Sam and I are supposed to go to Kamloops today, but after our run-in yesterday that could have changed. I start to panic. If Sam takes off again and leaves for the whole day without even speaking to me, I’ll be a basket case by lunchtime.
As if on cue, I hear his boots thump down the hall and then he’s on his way outside.
No!
I tug open the bathroom door and tear after him. But I’m moving so fast, I trip over my own feet and slam hard into the outside door. It flies open and crashes against the wall of the trailer while I hurtle through the opening and over the steps. Luckily, I land on my feet.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam. He’s headed to the shed, but at the sound of all the racket, he stops and glances up at the shaking satellite dish on the top of the trailer. Then he looks back at me.
“Good thing for you that didn’t come down,” is all he says and then he continues walking.
Crap! He’s still mad.
“Are we going to Kamloops?” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I’ve thought them.
Sam stops again and turns around. He tilts his head, and his eyes narrow. Then he frowns. “I am,” he says. “Are you?”
I bob my head. He nods too, and suddenly, the air is a little less heavy. It’s easier to breathe.
He gestures toward the trailer. “Go have your coffee and breakfast. I need to see to Jasmine before we head out.”
———
As we begin the drive to Kamloops, there are three of us in the truck, Sam, me, and the elephant. It’s right there on the seat between us, so it’s pretty hard to miss, but we both do our best to ignore it. We talk about the weather and the upcoming rodeo, Micah’s training, and Jasmine. But the conversation is stilted — robotic. None of the words feel natural and there’s no flow. We might as well be strangers.
Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “I’m really sorry about yesterday,” I blurt. “I should have left Greener Pastures earlier. I hope you weren’t late for —” I flail around in my mind for an appropriate word to complete my thought, but since I have no idea where Sam went, nothing comes. I shrug. “I hope you weren’t late.”
“I’m sorry too,” he says. “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I guess I worked myself into a lather while I was waiting. Dumb thing to do. As it turns out, I wasn’t late. Everything was just fi —” He bites off the last word. I glance at him. He shakes his head. “I wasn’t late. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I want to ask Sam where he went and why he didn’t come home until midnight, but now that we’re clearing the air, I don’t want to risk messing things up again. I just nod and say, “So why are we going to Kamloops?”
He smiles, and I feel my body unclench a little.
“We need to do some shopping.”
“For what?”
He glances at me sideways. The mischievous sparkle is back in his eyes, and I feel another weighty layer leave me, kind of like I’m an onion being peeled.
“There’s only one thing teenage females shop for that I know of,” he says. “Clothes.”
I’m puzzled. “But why?”
He clucks his tongue and sighs. “Girl, we have four days of rodeo coming up. We’re talking about my old stomping ground here. I know the people who’ll be there, and I’ve got a reputation to think of. I’m goi
ng to be introducing you around, and I can’t have you looking like —”
He takes his gaze off the road long enough to look me up and down with a disapproving eye. “Well, let’s just say I don’t want you looking out of place. You need some proper rodeo clothes.”
Another layer falls away. It is so good to be back on easy terms with Sam. I stifle a smile as I look down at myself. “Rodeo clothes, huh?” I stretch my legs and wiggle my feet. “You mean the boots aren’t enough?”
———
When we get to the western wear store, all the clerks are busy with customers, so Sam and I wander around on our own.
I spot a mannequin wearing the most gorgeous shirt I’ve ever seen. It’s white — really plain actually — except for the front yoke. That’s embroidered with a beautiful Southwest design in shades of black and brown. It’s amazing how that one detail takes the shirt from ho-hum to fabulous, and I just know it would look great on Sam.
“Hey, check this out,” I say.
He wanders over from a rack he’s been browsing. “Uh-huh,” he nods. “Very nice.”
“You should get it,” I tell him.
“We’re shopping for you — remember?” And then he wanders away.
I growl under my breath and stomp after him.
From across the store, I hear a man holler, “Sam, you old dog, what brings you here?”
After locating the voice, Sam lifts a hand in greeting and smiles back. “Hey, Curtis.”
The man strides toward us. Sam meets him halfway and the two shake hands and slap each other on the back.
“You’re looking prosperous, Curtis,” Sam says. “Business must be good.”
“And you’re lookin’ too damn skinny,” Curtis replies. “You need to put some meat on those bones, buddy. I should take you home to the missus. She’d fatten you up.” He laughs and slaps Sam on the back again. “So what can I do you for?”
Truths I Learned from Sam Page 8